


Prince of Tennis Short stories

by Leaves_Crown



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Jealousy, M/M, Reunion, romantic walk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2015-11-18
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:55:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leaves_Crown/pseuds/Leaves_Crown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1. Tezuka wins Wimbledon, but also needs to find a way to apologize to Fuji.<br/>(Tezuka/Fuji)<br/>2. Sanada and Tezuka don’t mind it that Fuji and Yukimura are close. Shiraishi is another matter though.<br/>(Tezuka/Fuji, Sanada/Yukimura)<br/>3. Yukimura slowly seduces Sanada (Sanada/Yukimura)<br/>4. At one of Atobe's parties, Tezuka gets jealous (Tezuka/Fuji)<br/>5. Tezuka returns to Tokyo for Fuji (Tezuka/Fuji)<br/>6. When Inui tells Kaidou to move forward without him, Kaidou makes his feelings known (Inui/Kaidou)<br/>7. After a two month abscence, Shishido can't wait to see Choutarou again (Ohtori/Shishido)<br/>8. When Tezuka comes home to find Fuji affected by an argument with his brother, he resolves to make things better (Tezuka/Fuji).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Winner

That last ball floated slowly past the net and into a corner his opponent could never reach. At least, that's how it seemed to Tezuka. He did not hear the announcement, that he scored the tournament point, that he had won Wimbledon. He had known that since the ball hit his racket.

Up, he looked, to the audience. People clapped, smiled, cheered for him in English, Japanese, other languages.

But Fuji wasn’t there.

So he did the best thing he could and showed a smile, hoping the brunet was not so angry that he did not watch him.

*

“2 years,” Fuji had whispered in his ear, 2 years ago.

Tezuka had looked up from his computer. “Hmm?”

“I’ll give you two years. You will quit your job and do nothing but prepare for Wimbledon.”

“Impossible. How will….”

“I will work.” Fuji had run his fingers through Tezuka’s hair. “Do not argue. It’s something I want for myself as well, seeing you there.”

Of course he had argued, but Fuji had run him down, tackling every one of his objections in the following weeks. When he had finally agreed, he had managed to work in a clause, that he would quit after that and help realize Fuji’s dream.

It had all been more expensive than they had thought, but Fuji had peservered, working full-time and on the weekend in the beginning. His book with photos had sold reasonably well, leaving him the option to quit his weekend job and help Tezuka prepare.

When he did not play Fuji, he would challenge any Japanese player he could find. Atobe was quite amused by his goal and been generous enough to allow him to make use of his facilities.

Then he had played in tournaments, again and again. And finally it had been enough for a wild card for Wimbledon.

But also so much that he barely saw Fuji. When he did see him, tired and pale, he felt nothing but guilt. It had all come to a head the day he left Japan, when he had found out about the camera.

Fuji’s eyes had shifted when Tezuka asked him why he did not bring it out for a last picture, as he had expected. The moment he realized Fuji had sold it to pay for his plane ticket, the stress and guilt got the best of him.

When he had finished accusing Fuji of dishonesty and meddlesomeness, Fuji had no longer looked at him. Without saying another word, he had left their apartment. Tezuka had called out for him, but Fuji did not listen, and the taxi waited. If he wanted to pay Fuji back, he would have to win Wimbledon.

*

And now Tezuka had.

Fuji watched Tezuka’s opponent, the Colombian Sebastian Perez, come to the net to shake his hand. Holding a pillow, Fuji had barely dared to watch during the tension-filled five-set match. Occasionally he had sipped from his tea, the caffeine making him more nervous than he had already been.

This was what he worked for the last two years. To see Tezuka receive the cup and smile like he did so rarely. He had seen the smile, right into his view. The British commentator had joked about it, already having the measure of his stoicism.

Now the microphone came in his direction. Tezuka wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and bowed at the interviewer.

“You are the first male player from Japan to win on these courts. How does it feel?”

“It has been a great honor to be here,” Tezuka said with his slight accent. “I hope it will inspire more young people in Japan to take up tennis.”

“Had you expected to get this far in the tournament?” the interviewer asked.

“There were so many great players at Wimbledon.” Tezuka nodded at Perez. “It was a privilege to play against him. Yet I had to win.”

“You had to…?”

“There is someone who gave up a lot just so I could play here.”

Fuji nervously took a sip of his tea. If Tezuka was going to say ‘Atobe’, it would be over between them.

“Your parents?”

“They have been very supportive. But I meant my boyfriend.”

Fuji spit out his tea, his eyes widening as he stared at the T.V. Had Tezuka really just admitted…?

The interviewer paused for a few seconds, while the noise in the crowd swelled. People behind Tezuka were whispering and staring at him. Some clapped and cheered.

“I spoke harsh words to him when I left. I hope he will allow me to still stay with him. He did not deserve any of it.”

“Is he here today?” the interviewer asked eagerly.

Tezuka shook his head. “We did not have the financial means to buy one more ticket.”

“Well, you will now,” she said with a smile.

“Yes.” Tezuka nodded. “Thank you.”

*

He stood by respectfully as they interviewed Perez, but Tezuka’s attention was on the audience. People whispered, looked at him, and he knew that most did not talk about the match. The rush of adrenaline had diminished. Worry crept up on him. What would his parents say? Would the people in his country embrace him, or resent him for drawing the attention to his relationship?

Then he saw an old couple, three rows up. The woman smiled at him, while the man stuck up his thumb. Tezuka took a deep breath and relaxed.

What was important now were Fuji and their future together. Tezuka hoped he had not gone so far that his Fuji would leave him.

There had been no sponsors for him at the beginning of the tournament, but now he would be flooded with requests, he knew. Still, the first calls he made were to airline companies, to make sure he would get a ticket home as soon as possible.

*

From the moment he booked his ticket, Tezuka took as many interviews as he could, to make up for his quick departure.

More questions about Fuji had been asked, but he had politely declined answering them until he was sure Fuji would be fine with it.

Evening fell when he had still been on the plane, and he arrived at their doorstep at nine o’clock. Tezuka took a deep breath. For all he knew Fuji had left their apartment for good. Perhaps he would even take up with one of those that always swarmed around him. If he had, not even his Wimbledon title would make up for it.

He turned the key and walked in. The hallway was dark, but Tezuka heard the noise of the television from the next room. Kicking off his shoes, he put down his luggage and entered the living room. Fuji slept on the sofa, remote control fallen from his hand. He had lost weight and looked pale. Tezuka felt a stab of guilt. He knew very well he had been the cause. He sat down next to Fuji, but did not wake him up. Instead he watched the sports channel.

Oishi was on the television, looking extremely nervous with all the press surrounding him. Tezuka had to admire the reporters for having flushed him out so soon.

“Did he always play like that?” an old reporter asked.

“He was our pillar at school. We won the nationals thanks to him.”

A young woman shoved her microphone into his face. “Do you know his boyfriend?”

“Does he play tennis too?” A bald man added.

“We all played together.” Oishi bowed. “You’d better ask them.”

“Where is he now you think?”

Oishi ran away. “I don’t know!”

Fuji stirred, so Tezuka gently laid his hand on his arm. Suddenly the shorter boy jerked up and stared at him. When realization hit Fuji, he did not relax, but edged further away from Tezuka.

“I bought you a camera,” Tezuka started, nervously. “I hope it’s one you like. Perez recommended it to me.”

“You should be in England, talking to sponsors,” Fuji said curtly.

“How can I stay one minute longer, after what I did?”

Fuji said nothing, glanced away from him to the television.

“I should have been grateful instead of angry. I made a horrible mistake.”

“You mentioned me to the whole world.”

“Shouldn’t I have?” Tezuka asked. “I saw this as the best way to prove my commitment to you. ”

"You told me you had had enough." Fuji's voice broke. "I thought you wanted to leave me."

Tezuka took his hands in his and kissed them both, before leaning his face against them. 

Fuji swallowed, looked away. 

"I will work for five years to build your dream, if needs be."

"Stay with me," Fuji whispered. 

"And what else?"

"Just that, for now."

Tezuka nodded, eager to make things right. "I never thought I would talk about my private life like that."

Finally Fuji’s eyes met his and a bit of a smile appeared. “You do realize you are going to be the face for gay athletes now.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I am tired of hiding.”

Fuji shifted closer, taking his left hand between his own. “This won Wimbledon.”

Tezuka sighed when Fuji kissed it. Their arms came around each other, Tezuka nuzzling his hair. “Did you still watch me?”

“What did you think?”

Caressing his back, Tezuka could finally feel the joy of winning flood over him. “I won Wimbledon,” he said, only now getting through to him what it meant.

“Yes, you did.” Fuji chuckled. “And you should go back to England.”

“I need you first.” Tezuka rushed his lips over Fuji’s throat, raining kisses on it.

Fuji arched his back, moaning at the sudden onslaught. They had not had sex for weeks and Tezuka’s sudden fury stirred up passions in him as well. He grabbed at Tezuka’s shirt, undoing the buttons and trying to pull it off.

Tezuka was having none of it. He pinned the shorter boy down on the sofa and loomed over him. “Today I will please you.”

So he slowly took off all Fuji’s clothes, kissing and caressing the skin that he revealed. Fuji lay back, his arms behind him, reveling in the attention.

He let out a gasp when Tezuka pulled down his underwear, leaving him naked and exposed before him. It had been a long time since they had been shy in front of the other, and Tezuka did not want to give embarrassment a chance. He therefore lowered his head and took Fuji into his mouth.

Fuji’s moan could be felt more than heard.


	2. Birds of Prey

_Tezuka and Sanada don’t mind it that Fuji and Yukimura are close. Shiraishi is another matter though._

Tezuka had returned to Japan in the summer for two weeks. Most of his old friends attended university now, while he played tournaments, ranking ever higher and higher. Still, to everyone’s surprise, he had decided to attend a training camp in Japan.

He had come late to their room the night before, discarding his luggage to take hold of Fuji for the first time in months. They had been awake through most of the night, whispering whenever they did not embrace in that most intimate of ways.

That morning, Tezuka felt tired, but sated and content. Even after a night like that, his eyes were once more drawn to Fuji. Sitting close to Yukimura on the grass, they studied a plant with great care.

Fuji’s fingers gently combed the grass and found something that he held up for Yukimura to look at. Rikkai’s former captain took his hand and studied what was in it. Smiles broke on their lips as the sun appeared from behind the clouds, lightning up their hair and faces.

Tezuka wished he carried one of Fuji’s cameras.

Not just Tezuka’s gaze was drawn towards the two delicate boys. A few yards onwards Sanada had been redoing the grip tape on his racket. Now his eyes shone, intently fixed on them.

Their closeness did not seem to bother Sanada, as it did not bother him. The idea of the two stunning young men trading kisses warmed him up. Tezuka quickly pushed it out of his mind.

What was he supposed to be doing? Tezuka felt the racket in his hand again and knew he had been planning to test the strings. Perhaps Sanada would care for a game or two after that.

The rapt interest on Sanada’s face had made place for a scowl. Surprised, Tezuka followed his gaze and his own lips tightened.

Shiraishi had joined them on the grass. Leaning over both of them, his hands rested on their shoulders. Yukimura and Fuji laughed at something he had said and Shiraishi clearly thought himself on top of the world.

Both Sanada and Tezuka rushed forward at the same moment.

#

When Shiraishi fell asleep that night, he had a nightmare. The angry pairs of eyes which had glared down on him earlier changed into those of an eagle and a hawk. The birds watched him from atop a tree, ready to strike if he would ever think of taking too many liberties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like almost every combination of the people involved in this story, but Perfect Pair and Alpha Pair are my favorites.


	3. Our Art

The last few weeks had been a haze of Yukimura. Yes, he had always been a big part of Sanada’s life; closely entwined with tennis. Yet lately they had grown so close that even tennis and kendo had been pushed to the background. The smiles, casual touches, sitting closely together… Sanada wasn’t consciously trying to analyze what it all meant, but knew it made him happy. 

Jogging under a warm summer’s sun, he couldn’t deny to himself that he hurried just to be able to see him a minute earlier. When he opened the little fence to Yukimura’s garden and the other turned around to beam at him, his stomach fluttered. 

“I thought you and Renji were doing calligraphy?” Yukimura asked, putting down his watering can. 

“We did.”

Yukimura took his hand and led him to the back of the garden. “Look at these.”

There was nothing to see but some recently ploughed soil. 

“Shiraishi sent me some seeds, they will look lovely in August. Red petals, an occasional white flower and…”

“Shiraishi!? Are they poisonous?” Sanada asked. 

“I guess so.” Yukimura seemed unconcerned. 

Sitting down under the shade of the ‘big tree’, as Sanada had dubbed it when they were six, Yukimura opened up his hand. His palm had been scratched, so Sanada sat next to him and studied it. “Is that from the seeds?”

“No, I mean… I don’t know.”

Sanada gave him a stern glare. “You should be more careful.”

“Look who’s talking.” Yukimura leaned against him, his side against Sanada’s chest. 

Yukimura’s locks tickled his chin, warming Sanada’s blood. Holding Yukimura was more than he had ever hoped for once. He nuzzled bluish hair as Yukimura talked. 

He had no idea what about. 

At some point the Latin names of plants and blooming times of flowers stopped tumbling from Yukimura’s lips. The smaller boy had fallen asleep. Perhaps he should wake him up, but Sanada did not have the heart for it. So instead, he slowly shifted to make Yukimura’s head lie in his own lap. Yukimura sighed, his fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. 

Even Sanada fell asleep for a few minutes, and they lay on the soil, newly provided with seeds to new life.

When he opened his eyes again, Yukimura glanced down on him. 

That wonderful smile again, like he was one of his plants and Yukimura the sun lightening him up. 

Sanada sat up. “Your family?”

“Out for the weekend. They’re nervous though, can you stay the night?”

“Why?” Sanada took some grass from Yukimura’s hair and his own. 

“After the hospital and all… they don’t like me being alone.”

Yukimura looked down at his knees and Sanada hated himself for bringing those memories up. 

“Of course I’ll stay.”

The stress flowed from Yukimura’s face. His hand was in Sanada’s again. “Let’s make dinner.”

They moved around the kitchen, cooking, undecided what they should make and therefore mixing ingredients that should not be mixed. They laughed, Yukimura moving on the rhythm of the music he had put on. Sanada felt like under a spell. He barely had a clue of what he was doing with the food, drinking the fruit juice Yukimura had made himself and chuckling at his imitations of different people’s victory yells at court. After more than an hour of that, Yukimura disappeared for a while. When he reentered the kitchen, Sanada was opening the window to let out the burning smells he had caused.

“What’s that?” he asked. He meant the beautiful yukata Yukimura had put on; dark blue with patterns of river reeds twisting amongst them.

“Something for you,” Yukimura said, misunderstanding. He showed the bottle of sake to Sanada. “From Hokkaidou.”

“You’re okay with that?”

Yukimura chuckled. “I’m not your captain anymore. A sip or two are allowed. I ordered take-out too.”

“Good idea.”

They sat down opposite each other at the low table in Yukimura’s living room. Instead of turning on the bright lights, Yukimura only lit a lantern and put it on a cupboard. The pleasant summer weather added to Sanada’s feeling of comfort. After fumbling with the bottle, Yukimura finally managed to open it and poured two small cups. Sanada took it with both hands. Just a single sip warmed his throat. 

“You like it?” 

Sanada nodded. “Better than what we got at home.”

“So you’re drinking sometimes?” 

Yukimura’s eyes had narrowed slightly, so he held up his hands in defense. “My grandfather expects me to, on special occasions.”

“I’m just teasing you.” He stood up when the doorbell rang. “The sushi’s here.”

While Yukimura paid the delivery-girl, Sanada took another sip. He watched Yukimura when he set everything up; opening the boxes, mixing soy sauce and wasabi. His former captain went all out this evening to make him feel happy and at ease. 

Sanada was glad that they had grown closer together again after all the things that had happened the year before. For since Yukimura had healed from his disease, things had been tense between them for a couple of months. Most of all he felt grateful that the boy was still in this world, that he had survived and his body strengthened again. Sometimes he still could not help looking for signs that all was not well, afraid the disease might still claim him. He made sure Yukimura did not notice these worries. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Yukimura said, just before he sat down. He hurried to the hallway and Sanada heard him go up the stairs. Sanada separated his two chopsticks, eager to eat. 

“Look,” Yukimura said after he marched back in. “I got this in the second-hand shop near the station.”

Sanada took the book from his hands. It weighed heavy and dust came off it when he opened it. “This is….oh!”

A date had been written on the first page. The seventh year of the Osahito emperor. Exquisite characters had been drawn by the first artist, all surrounded by water colored mountains and rivers. 

Carefully, Sanada turned the page, only to be treated with the drawing of a sword, raw and with a damaged hilt. Page after page of art that in turn intrigued and puzzled him. “This is worth hundreds of thousands of yen,” Sanada let out. 

“That’s what I thought. I don’t think they had any idea of what they were selling.” Yukimura sat down next to him. “May I?”

Sanada handed him the book and took a bite of sushi without paying much attention to the taste. 

“What do you think of this one?” One of a later reign depicted a train, scaring birds and humans alike. 

Leaning over to get a good look, Yukimura’s scent once again captured him. 

“This one I like as well,” Yukimura said, skipping two pages. A woman held a rake, while two kids collected leaves in the background. 

“I commend you for finding such a treasure.”

“I thought you would like it.” Yukimura smiled. “Now turn to the last page.”

Sanada skipped ahead, only to see that this page was loose and the paper whiter than that of the others. 

The character for camellia was surrounded with painted white and yellow ones. Behind these grew two red ones, half hidden from view, like they hesitated to show themselves. 

Confused, Sanada looked for a date. The art seemed out of place somehow, too modern and with a hint of western influence. “Who made this?”

Yukimura’s smile brightened. “You and I.”

Sanada’s eyebrows shot up, but then he saw it. The character was done in his own handwriting.

“I convinced Renji to save some of your practice sheets. Then I painted the camellias in myself. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind? You elevated my mediocre work”

“Hardly mediocre,” Yukimura said. “Renji’s grandmother herself told me you had talent.”

Sanada just stared at the artwork. Yukimura had perfectly blended his art with his own, enhanced it, and made it a thing of them together. The colored camellias represented longing, waiting and the hidden red ones love. Was Yukimura trying to tell him something? Quickly, he took a sip. He should not read too much into it. 

But as Yukimura took bite after bite of his sushi, he felt impossibly drawn to those moving lips. How Sanada wanted to touch them, claim them with his own. Yet he controlled himself. He had long ago decided that he would savor each moment spent with him, but never risk their closeness for his more base desires. 

“This one is good.” Yukimura held up a piece of salmon sushi and let Sanada take it into his mouth. “What do you think?”

“Ehm… good,” he answered after he had swallowed. 

Yukimura beamed at him. Again Sanada had to fight the urge to take him in his arms. 

In his elegant way, Yukimura poured him another cup and held it out. As he drank, Yukimura shifted closer. A shudder ran through Sanada’s body. 

“Are you ticklish?” 

Those pale, graceful fingers reached for his side and started tickling him. Overwhelmed with desire, Sanada tried to push them away, but then Yukimura’s toe scratched the underside of his foot. 

The next thing he knew, he had pushed Yukimura down. He crawled on top of him, pinning his wrists against the floor. Breathing heavily, he looked down into dark blue eyes. 

Yukimura’s gaze locked with his and it dawned to him what he had done. Shocked, his muscles froze. All his fears flashed by him. He would lose Yukimura now. Perhaps even kicked off the tennis team. 

Before he could stammer an apology or release him, Yukimura smiled. He shook his hands loose and his arms went over Sanada’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He guided Sanada's lips towards his own. Impatient, as Yukimura was usually only on the tennis courts, his tongue urged him to open his mouth. 

Sanada sighed when Yukimura’s tongue slid against his. His erection grew, but he kept it carefully away from the warm body beneath him, not wanting to frighten Yukimura with it. He should have known that there was little that scared the other man. Instead of keeping their bodies far apart, as Sanada tried, he hooked one leg behind Sanada’s knee and pulled him strongly against him. 

Moaning at the sudden stimulation, it took Sanada a while to realize that Yukimura was just as hard as he. 

“Huh?” he let out when Yukimura’s lips moved down his throat. “You want this?”

The other boy smiled back so sexily that Sanada felt his cock twitch. 

“I was never sure that you did,” Yukimura whispered, while stroking the hair from Sanada’s damp face. 

“For a long time,” Sanada breathed. 

Yukimura toyed with the button of Sanada’s shirt, but looked away. “I caused you a lot of trouble last year.”

Though he was far from being the most empathic amongst the Rikkai regulars, Sanada realized what was behind those words. Guilt.

His face colored, flush with the sudden knowledge that Yukimura had lived with that for so long. “It scared me that I might lose you. It set me on edge, that’s all.”

“I thought I was getting on your nerves, that I became a nuisance,” Yukimura said softly against his ear. “Sanada…”

“No,” he said simply, entwining Yukimura’s fingers with his own. 

They kissed again, gentler this time. A most delicious moan escaped Yukimura’s mouth when Sanada sucked just beneath his throat. It startled Sanada a bit, but he took care to remember the spot.

Rubbing their bodies together, they both breathed heavily at this point, eager for more of that delicious friction between their legs. They kept it up for minutes, moans growing in intensity. Yukimura’s fingers slipped from his, to reach under Sanada’s shirt. 

Sanada pushed his knee between those bare legs and gasped when he realized how small Yukimura’s underpants were. 

“Yes,” Yukimura breathed, as Sanada rubbed him with his knee. His hands were at the front of Sanada’s shirt. Yukimura managed to open two buttons, before he arched back and let out a series of gasps and moans. Sanada watched on fascinated as he writhed and made those little noises. Yukimura’s face so close to his own, lost in ecstasy, was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. 

Then Yukimura sank back, sated, but still panting as if he had just played the match of his life. Sanada kissed his neck once, but then got off him. Though very aroused, he was more concerned with Yukimura. The last thing he wanted to do was make a mistake now. 

After a minute of calming down, Yukimura smiled the most wonderful smile at him. He sat up, crawling the short distance to Sanada and laid his hands on his erection. “May I?”

Nodding a little too eagerly, Sanada let him undo his zipper. He groaned when Yukimura took him into both hands. His grip was self-assured, strong, but what made Sanada gasp was him kneeling down and bowing over. Face so close to his erection that Sanada could feel every breath, was something he had never even dared fantasize about. 

Yukimura moved his hands, oh so slowly, but then moved forward and licked the tip of his cock. 

Sanada’s eyes widened and then his body tremored with his release. Somewhere between all the tremblings, Yukimura had sat up. Supporting Sanada, the shorter boy caressed his back. “It’s okay, lean on me,” he whispered.

So he laid his face against Yukimura’s shoulder and returned the embrace. They staid like that for several minutes, a little shy to look into each other’s eyes again. 

“Sanada,” Yukimura whispered finally. “I think we should wash ourselves.”

Reluctantly, Sanada pulled away from him. Yukimura took tissues from the table and dipped at his kimono. He had been just quick enough to save his face, but Sanada had come all over the fabric. It both aroused and embarrassed him. 

“I’ll go first,” Yukimura said. 

Sanada followed him with his eyes and then pulled up his zipper again. The sake had gone cold, but he drank two more sips anyway. After finishing the last of his sushi, he leaned back. A smile crept on his face.

Yukimura was his. 

About an hour later they lay next to each other on a futon in the living room. They talked quietly, Yukimura stroking his hair. 

“We can’t be together like this very often,” Yukimura whispered. 

“I know,” Sanada said. “School…”

“Tennis, our team, our families, kendo, calligraphy, my French class,” Yukimura finished. 

“When we are….together,” Sanada stammered. “Let’s not talk too much about all that.”

Yukimura kissed him invitingly on the lips. “I agree.”

Sanada could not but embrace him. He started trailing kisses down his neck, hoping to find more of those delicious spots that would make Yukimura moan and arch his back.


	4. Masked Ball

With dismay, Tezuka watched Fuji pull the black fabric from the large package and spread it out on his bed. 

“A musketeer maybe…or no, a highway man.” Fuji’s face brightened. “How nice of him.”

Somehow Atobe had known that Tezuka had planned to appear at his costumed ball in nothing more outlandish than one of his father’s suits. 

“It will make you look dark and mysterious.” Fuji lowered his voice. “Sexy.”

“I won’t wear it.”

“Now that,” Fuji said, knowing his weaknesses. “Would be rude. This Solar Eclipse party is held to establish friendly ties between the Kantou high schools that took part in the Nationals. Refusing a gift would be an insult.”

Tezuka sighed and held up the costume with reluctance. “I won’t take the pistols.”

Fuji shrugged, clearly not caring about that at all. “Can I come to your house after?”

“Saturday, we had agreed.”

That made Fuji stand up and smile one of his fake smiles. “Of course.”

He did not lean in for a kiss or another form of closeness and left his room with a careless wave. 

For a while Tezuka watched the closed door. He desired Fuji every day, but if they started sleeping together more than once a week, he knew he would start neglecting his many responsibilities.

So he did his homework for the next few hours, trying not to indulge in fantasies of Saturday night. Next year would be their last in high school and he wanted to be well prepared.

After a rather bland dinner, he went up to his room and put on his costume. His mother gave him one of her teasing smiles and even his grandfather raised his eyebrows in amusement. She took the car keys and made a bow for him. “After you, my prince.”

He did not correct her and followed her to the car. She switched to a pop music channel and kept throwing amused glances at him while occasionally singing along. 

“What’s that for?” she asked, when he tied a black shawl in front of his nose and mouth.

“It’s a masked ball.”

She was about to say something, when he pointed. “Here.”

Her mouth fell open. 

Atobe’s house tended to surprise people by daylight, but now it looked positively out of this world. 

Fountains sprayed dancing water that sparkled in the light of fireworks. Servants stood waiting for every arrival and bowed when Tezuka stepped out of the car. 

“A refreshment, madam?” an elderly butler asked, offering her a glass of champagne. 

“I’m fine… thank you.”

Tezuka nodded at his still staring mother and walked up the lightened path to Atobe’s mansion. 

Inside the lights were dimmed up until the main hall, which had a lit dance floor. An orchestra played modern songs and the bravest people had taken to the floor to dance. Amongst hopped Marui, who was dressed as a pirate, and Kikumaru, who looked like a cartoon character, though Tezuka had no idea which. 

Not far from them Yukimura stood in all his splendor, with his courtly robes from the Heian dynasty, attended by warrior Sanada and scribe Yanagi. 

“Ah, you’re wearing it.”

Though Tezuka did not speak much, he was not often at a loss for words. Still, Atobe’s appearance rendered him speechless for a couple of seconds. Atobe had clearly been inspired by a painting of Louis XIV in his youth, with sun rays coming out the back and sumptuous golden locks falling on his shoulders. 

“Thank you for sending the costume,” Tezuka said finally.

“My pleasure.” Atobe smirked. “They’re checking you out.”

A group of girls from Hyotei, stared and giggled. Tezuka assumed they focused on Atobe though. 

“Drinks are there, make yourself at home.”

“Thank you,” he said again. 

Oishi and a Rikkai senior walked by, both dressed as vampires and not recognizing him. Tezuka did not mind. He would drink one drink and leave as soon as it was polite. Two witches were re-enacting one of Federer’s matches right next to him, while a little further, a bunch of seniors had gathered around, laughing at something he could not hear.

“I only gave it a 32% chance that you would wear that.”

Tezuka turned to the bespectacled pharaoh, not bothering to ask how Inui would have known about the costume in the first place. 

“Everybody’s here.”

“Except Fuji,” he let slip.

“He’s right there.” Inui pointed. 

From the laughing group one emerged who was shorter than them all, yet held all their attention. 

Tezuka gasped. Fuji’s hair was down, but lay straighter than usual. His own mother had taken him for a prince, but Fuji really looked like one. There was a studied elegance about the way he wore his ruffled white shirt, of which the highest few buttons had not been fastened. His tight pants showed some of his curves, something not only Tezuka was noticing. The tiny blue mask set of his eyes even more. When he threw back his head and laughed genuinely at a pirate’s joke, a spark of jealousy rang through Tezuka. 

It got worse when a Hyotei senior laid his hand on Fuji’s shoulder. His joke made Fuji laugh again and whisper something in his ear. Tezuka was not a violent person, but several possibilities to get rid of that hand flashed through his mind. 

Suddenly those blue eyes focused on him. A smile appeared on the beautiful face and Tezuka wondered what madness had let him to reject Fuji’s offer to stay over tonight. The boy walked over to him, gazes of several upon him. 

“It suits you.”

Tezuka nodded and felt all the more inadequate. Unlike the Hyotei guys, he was not good at flirting. 

“What will you do later?” he asked. 

“Yuchiri-san has invited me to watch the eclipse from his roof. They have a telescope.”

Before Tezuka could ask him to stay with him instead, Yuchiri appeared and took Fuji’s wrist. “I’d like to show you something.”

“Excuse me,” Fuji said to Tezuka, with a smile, of course.

Tezuka’s eyes narrowed as he saw that hand pulling Fuji away from him. He vaguely suspected Fuji was punishing him, but his fury was for the presumptuous Hyotei senior. 

Even though he did not see Fuji for the next quarter of an hour, Tezuka remained at the party, hoping he would come back soon. 

He uncovered his face though, as it was warm enough without something blocking his mouth.

“Yes? Yes? Hello!” The fairy on stage waved her hand, gaining everybody’s attention. “I would like all of you to raise a glass for the organizer of this happy gathering: Atobe Keigo!”

The spotlights all flashed to Hyotei’s king. He held a champagne glass in one hand and snapped the fingers of the other. “To competition.”

People all raised their glasses, echoing his toast. At that moment Tezuka spotted Fuji. He stood on one of the balconies, sipping champagne. Yuchiro still hovered nearby. 

“If there is any drink you might like, which you can’t find here, be sure to ask the staff and we’ll get it for you.” The Sun King continued. “Also, as my great friend Oshitari requested, if you would retire with a friend for a bit, there are some rooms made available for… talking.”

Kikumaru cat-called and not just girls giggled at that. Tezuka glanced up again and saw nobody at the balcony anymore. His heart missed a beat. Just the thought of Fuji and the handsome senior spending time alone in one of those rooms spurred him into action. He hurried out of the great hall and arrived at a corridor, looking for stairs. 

The first one he found let him to a dead end and he had to retrace his steps. The second steps brought him up to a hall on the third floor. Paintings lined the walls and the vase standing next to the corner had to be worth a lot. 

All the rooms and halls he passed had themes; he saw Chinese fans, art deco from the US, Japanese woodwork, Indonesian puppets…Yet he did not meet a single soul during his search for Fuji. The more he walked, the more nervous he felt. What if he would run into them embracing… or worse?

He told himself Fuji would not do such a thing, but the strange atmosphere affected people and he had seen him drink champagne. That, and he was probably pissed at Tezuka for rejecting him.

He rushed up another pair of stairs and came into a narrow corridor. At first it seemed like all the others, but the door at the end stood slightly opened. 

Tezuka took a deep breath and moved forward. Inside, he saw an ancient four-poster bed. The wind played with its curtains, as with the ones covering the door to the balcony. The lights from outside cast eerie shadows all around. 

Fuji stood there, eyes trained on the sky, holding the railing. 

He was alone. 

Relieved, Tezuka brushed aside the curtain. His fingers reached for Fuji’s waist and he embraced him from behind. Fuji let out a surprised sound. He tensed for a second before relaxing. “It’s you.”

“Who else might it be?” He tightened his hold on him. 

Fuji leaned his head against his shoulder. “I’m just a little jumpy.”

“Did he try something?”

“I left.” Fuji stepped away. “You’d better go home now. It’s probably later than you wanted to leave already.”

About to make another step, Fuji was yanked back by Tezuka’s hand on his wrist. The last thing Tezuka saw before kissing him was Fuji’s eyes widening. 

His lips yielded for him soon. He pulled the shorter boy against him. His hands slip under the ruffled shirt, touching his warm skin. Fuji sighed into the kiss, but still seemed tense. 

“What did he do?”

“Nothing much, he didn’t force me or anything.”

Tezuka trailed his teeth over Fuji’s neck. “But he tried?”

“I told you.” Fuji looked away. “I left.”

Tezuka took his chin in his hand and made him look at him. 

“I want you.” Tezuka’s voice had grown hoarse. 

“Oh?” Fuji stepped out of his arms. “I thought you were too busy for me.”

“I was foolish.” An image of Fuji with the senior flashed through his mind and his face darkened. “You enjoyed yourself, didn’t you?”

He cocked his head. “With what?”

Tezuka grabbed Fuji and turned him back around. “Teasing me,” he whispered in his ear. He tore of the bandana covering his face and covered Fuji’s eyes with it. The shorter boy yelped when he tied it behind his head. 

“Kunimitsu.” Surprise, arousal and a touch of fear. He could hear them all in Fuji’s quivering voice. 

His hands grabbed the slender hips and he pushed Fuji back inside. “Lie down.”

“Here?” 

Tezuka pulled at his ruffled collar and bit him at the start of his shoulder, causing a shiver. “Lie down.”

Careful, Fuji made his way over to the bed, stopping when his knee hit the wood. He turned his head around, but before he could ask another question, Tezuka pushed. 

Tezuka’s eyes narrowed when he saw him sprawled over the sheets. His arousal was getting painful and he frantically looked around for oil or anything that would make penetration hurt less. His eye fell on a couple of drawers. He had no luck with the top two, but the third gave him a whole range of choices. 

Putting one flask on the bed, he saw Fuji had moved little, perhaps enjoying the rough treatment.

“On your hands and knees.”

The eagerness with which Fuji followed this command, convinced him. Tezuka leaned over him and began to undo his belt. The other boy breathed as fast as he did and quivered when Tezuka carefully undid the buttons on his pants. 

Taking them off caused some effort, though Fuji helped by lifting his knees. He took off his boxers by himself, so he was only wearing the white shirt. Fuji fell forward when Tezuka pushed his knee between his legs, spreading them further and rested his face on his hands. After warming, the oil by rubbing it between his hands, he prepared Fuji the way he liked it: by pushing two fingers in an scissoring them. 

By the time he deemed him ready, Fuji was panting. His body felt hot to Tezuka’s fingers and everything invited him to take him. With every ounce of self control that he had, he moved to Fuji’s shoulders and began kissing them instead. 

“Come on,” Fuji urged, when he realized that Tezuka wanted to prolong things. 

He tore open the front of Fuji’s shirt. “Silence.”

The menacing tone in his voice rendered the boy quiet, until Tezuka scraped his teeth over his neck. Fuji moaned out loud when he was bitten, but Tezuka still had Yoruchi on his mind and sucked his skin hard enough to leave marks. His fingers trailed over his chest, finding nipples. 

Fuji’s fingers curled in the sheets and little moans kept escaping them. Tezuka had planned to tease him some more, but could take it no longer. He back, positioned himself behind him and thrust. 

If Tezuka had been the more coherent one before, he lost that advantage with the exquisite feeling of pushing into Fuji. All he could think of was getting more, and getting it faster. Fuji groaned underneath him, desperate for release. Tezuka thrust in deeply and let his head fall back in ecstacy. 

The moment he grabbed Fuji’s erection, the young prodigy jerked his hips and came in his hand. Still moving, Tezuka was pulled into orgasm by Fuji’s violent shudders. 

He collapsed on the bed next to him. Fuji rested his face in his neck and breathed heavily against his skin. Tezuka remained awake as he sank into what seemed like a dreamless sleep. Tenderly, he undid the knot at the back of his head and took off the black fabric from his eyes. 

The way Fuji slept now, completely relaxed and trusting was how only he should see him. After watching him, he closed his eyes too and enjoyed their togetherness. 

Minutes passed, and he gently shook him. 

“We should go,” Tezuka whispered. 

A nod and Fuji sat up in an awkward movement. 

“You okay?”

A lovely smile reassured him. 

As Fuji gathered his clothes, Tezuka took off the sheets and threw them in a basket. He tried not to think that it might have been put there for an occasion like this. 

Fuji zipped his pants and readjusted the shirt, though he could not cover all the marks. “Shall we?”

"We shall."


	5. Winter Love

Taking a leap in the dark was something new to Tezuka, yet he was determined on this winter evening. 

For the last two years, instead of finishing high school in Japan, he had taken the track leading to professional tennis. Germany the first year, England the next, he had tried to keep in touch with his Seigaku team mates nevertheless. Despite his effort, emails had grown few and far between, since they were in their exhausting exam year. 

Fuji wrote to him about once a month. Tezuka had always replied, but his own short emails always made him feel guilty. The problem was that he did not know what to write. For what could he say to someone who was so important to him, but whom he could give so little?

Tezuka had believed his feelings would diminish; that he would meet others for whom he would feel that same attraction and desire to be close with. But he never had, and slowly came to realize that he craved Fuji’s presence more than he had known.

So today, Tezuka had had come to Japan with a clear goal in mind. He had arrived late in Tokyo because snowfall had delayed his flight. He had paid his respects to his family, left his luggage at home and started walking the nine streets between his house and Fuji’s. 

He had no idea of the reception he would get. Once perhaps, he had almost been sure that Fuji had returned his feelings, but now he could be with someone else. Or perhaps he had simply lost interest in a friend who had left more than two years ago. Imagining Fuji opening the door with a boyfriend clinging to him made Tezuka almost turn back around. 

But that would be cowardly and Tezuka was no coward. So he fortified himself as he reached the white door and rang the bell. 

It took a few moments before it opened, and one of the prettiest women he had ever met opened the door.

A little taken aback, Tezuka bowed nevertheless. 

“Good evening, Fuji-san. Could I talk to your brother?”

“Yuuta isn’t at home I’m afraid.”

Tezuka took a deep breath. “Actually I came for…”

She smiled. “Just teasing, Tezuka-kun, I know you’re here for Syusuke.”

Never really sure how to react when older people teased him, he said nothing and waited as she turned back to call him. 

“Syusuke? Someone at the door for you.”

“Thank you, nee-san.” 

Just the sound of his voice caused a rush of adrenaline and Tezuka stood even straighter. He saw how Fuji’s polite expression changed to one of shock as he recognized him. 

“Tezuka.”

They just stared at each other; both had grown, but Fuji’s features had also refined. He looked even more stunning than before. 

Tezuka found words. “I would like to take you for a walk, if you have time.”

“I… was helping my sister, but…”

“Oh, it’s fine,” she said, pushing a thick coat into her brother’s hands. “Nothing that can’t wait.”

Fuji nodded at Tezuka. Nervous, he buttoned the coat and put on a pair of boots. 

“When did you arrive in Tokyo?” Fuji asked, after they reached the sidewalk. 

“Just today.”

“You must be tired.”

“I’m fine.”

Fuji smiled, but Tezuka knew his short answers unsettled him, perhaps because they resembled his short emails. Tezuka regretted his own inadequacy when it came to conversing lightly; something all their team mates, save Kaidou, had been far better at than him.

“Are you well, Fuji?” he therefore asked.

“Well as can be. I got okay marks for my exams.”

“You got into all the top universities?” Tezuka asked, knowing well that ‘okay’ meant something different to Fuji than to someone like Momoshiro. 

“Yes.”

“That is good.”

They reached the park and started walking past the pond. Years ago they had walked here sometimes, in summer. Tezuka had already wanted to touch Fuji then. 

“This is where you fed the ducks,” he said, as they crossed the bridge to the now deserted snowy grassfield. 

Fuji smiled. “You remember.”

“Of course.”

That came out a bit weird, and he felt Fuji’s glance on him.

“I thought you would have forgotten all about… us. Since you were abroad for so long.” Fuji's smile disappeared.

“I’ve not forgotten you, Fuji.”

The shorter boy swallowed and then whispered; “Why did you come to Tokyo?”

Tezuka stopped walking. Fuji turned back for him, looking at him wearily. 

“I came back for you.”

It seemed as if Fuji wasn’t sure he heard right. “What?"

He gently nudged Fuji’s hand from his pocket and warmed it with his own. 

Fuji’s eyes followed his movements. “I don’t understand.”

“No? You really don’t?”

“I believed you…” Fuji looked down. “Did not care for me in that way.”

Tezuka bowed his head. “I apologize. I was at fault for making you think that.”

“I thought…” Fuji stepped closer, his smile returning. “I thought you…”

Crossing the last bit of distance between them, Tezuka took him in his arms, for the first time feeling him quite this close. He laid his face against Fuji’s hair and shut his eyes; enjoying his warmth.

Moments later, Fuji looked up and they shared their first kiss under a snow covered tree. Yet the snow, ice or any kind of cold was forgotten in the heat of it. 

*

It was well past nine when Tezuka walked Fuji back to his house. Dark as it was, Fuji dared to slip his hand in Tezuka’s own. Stepping back on his porch, Fuji smiled again. 

“Would you like to stay the night?”

Tezuka nodded. “I would.”


	6. Knowing you

Kaidou was used to being watched by Inui. For years he watched from the sidelines as he played, or from the court when they played doubles.

Yet lately, he felt that Inui watched him with a look that was new in its intensity.

As he played a friendly match with Tachibana on a warm Saturday evening, Kaidou first tried out a serve they had developed together. It left Fudomine’s old captain without an answer. Though Tachibana was worthy of having his data taken, Kaidou knew that Inui never once took his eyes of him.

He won convincingly and Tachibana complimented him as they shook hands, but Kaidou felt nervous as he walked off the court.

“Go change,” Inui said quietly. “I will wait here for you.”

This only confirmed his suspicions that something was up. After a quick shower, he hastily put on a pair of white shorts and a black tank top.

Inui stood outside, writing in his notebook.

“Ah, Kaidou. Let’s walk.”

They left their school grounds, and headed toward the river. The sun was sinking, leaving the sky red. No people were about there, as usual. Kaidou liked this time of day for all its memories of training with Inui.

“You did well today,” Inui said.

“Ah.”

“You improve at a rate that is matched by few.”

Kaidou said nothing, wondering where this would lead.

“Do you remember that I once said that you would become unbeatable?”

“Yes.”

“That time is dawning.”

“I don’t think I am a match yet for…”

“You will be.” Inui turned away from him a little, to watch the river.

“Senpai?”

“We should stop playing doubles together.”

Kaidou’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“I am holding you back.” Inui’s voice was raw.

“You’re not! You taught me everything, made me… what I am now.”

A sad smile appeared on Inui’s face. “I thank you for saying that, Kaidou.”

“It’s true. You spent so much time helping me develop and you always knows what my body needs, can handle, I mean.” Kaidou looked away from him, embarrassed, as he realized the double meaning of what he had said.

“You should find a professional trainer now, someone who can develop you further than I can.”

“Why not you?” Kaidou asked sullenly.

“Remember my match against Tezuka. No matter what I know, there are those who can surpass me no matter what. He can, Fuji can and you can. You need someone who understands that sphere of tennis that I can not enter.”

“I don’t want to play tennis without you!” Kaidou shouted.

Startled, Inui looked at him.

Kaidou said nothing, knowing he had revealed too much. Yet, he forced himself to meet Inui’s gaze.

“Kaidou, are you..?”

“What?”

Inui stepped closer and took off his glasses.

By now, Kaidou had seen his face a few times without them, but always in a rush. His eyes would always be covered in a matter of seconds.

This time was different. Inui gave him all the time he needed to look at his handsome face, at his expressive eyes.

Tentatively, not at all like his usual self, Inui reached out and touched his face. “Do you…need me, Kaidou?”

Not trusting his own voice, he merely nodded.

Inui closed the distance between them completely and pulled him against him. Kaidou breathed heavily as those strong arms came around him. It took a moment before he returned the embrace, but then he held on tightly.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he whispered.

“We don’t have to part,” Inui said. “Not in every way.”

The older boy rested his nose in Kaidou’s damp hair, breathing in his scent. Happy as he had never been before, Kaidou closed his eyes.

The skies darkened further as they held each other. It was all strange to Kaidou; part of him relaxed in the hug, yet another part was awash with unfamiliar feelings. His instincts told him to get yet closer to Inui, to become one with him completely.

And Inui, knowing him through and through, also knew this was the moment to tilt his chin and kiss him.

Kaidou knew nothing of this, but Inui knew so well that he soon responded and enjoyed. His body heated up immensely and he gasped when Inui’s fingers slipped under his shirt.

They broke away, Inui looking at him with warmth in his eyes.

“I never knew… I hoped but…”

“I thought you knew everything about me.”

Inui smiled. “Not this.”

Not happy with this pause, Kaidou reached for his senpai. They went to their knees, kissing more fiercely now. Inui’s hands drove up a lust in him that he scarcely knew how to handle. Inui saw it and broke away a little.

“Let’s stop for a bit.”

A little dazed, Kaidou watched as Inui sat down in the grass.

“Come.”

Inui let Kaidou rest back against him and entwined their fingers. “When I dreamt of you, I did not just want to kiss or make out. I also wanted to hold you like this. Do you understand that?”

Though his body was telling him to turn around and rub himself against the taller boy, he nodded. And it was pleasant, to have Inui fuss over him in a new way.

“Senpai?”

“Don’t you think you should call me by my first name now?”

“Soon, I will.”

Inui chuckled. “What is it?”

“I still want to play doubles with you.”

They watched the river for a long time until Inui finally spoke again.

“That makes me glad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art that matches this story well:  
> http://leavescrown.tumblr.com/post/95662270612/this-pic-matches-my-inukai-story-perfectly-they


	7. Mine

Shishido threw open the car door before he had even turned off the engine. It was counterproductive, making him struggle with the key and door at the same time.

Atobe’s servant knew him better than to offer to put the car away. Shishido had always scoffed at Atobe’s easy acceptance of having people at his back and call. Even today, when he was so eager to see Choutarou after having missed him for the two months of spring break, he made sure to park himself.

Finally free of it, he burst into Atobe’s mansion, ran through the ballroom and up the West Wing stairs. The door to his private lodgings stood ajar. Peeking in, Shishido saw Atobe in the middle of a speech.

"Sorry for being late." Shishido stepped in. "Plane delay."

Atobe made a gesture of great affability. “It is no matter, but hold your tongue as I’ll explain…”

"Hey! Where is Choutarou?" Shishido glanced around the circle of people surrounding Atobe. It included most of his former team mates, but also some older people he was not familiar with.

"In Sendai. A family gathering," Oshitari said. "He left yesterday."

Shishido’s mood plummeted. The promise of Choutarou was what had spurred him on from the moment he left the airplane. 

"He’ll be back on Monday," Atobe said. "Now, as I was saying…"

Annoyed, disappointed, Shishido stepped back into the hall again. The last thing he wanted to do now was indulge Atobe with his attention. He sat down on a wooden chair, his hands rested on his knees. Just before he had left the plane he had changed into this pair of jeans, knowing how much Choutarou liked seeing him in them.

"Fuck it," he muttered and grabbed his phone.

Choutarou did not pick up immediately. In fact, Shishido had been about to end the call when he came on.

"Shishido-san?" He sounded breathless.

"Choutarou, what the hell!?" Shishido glared to his left, where he was holding his phone. "I thought we’d meet at Atobe’s stupid conference."

"I’m really sorry! My grandparents insisted I’d come. They said I would have no time for them by the time I entered university."

Perhaps a few years ago he would have hung up or made a few snide remarks to make Choutarou feel even more guilty, but he had found that he did not like making him sad. So Shishido just sighed. “I just wanted to see you.”

A long pause. Choutarou was not used to him saying such things. “I also wanted to see you."

"You'll be back tomorrow then?"

"No. I am..."

"Save it."

"Wait! Don't hang up!"

"I wasn't."

"I’m driving home now. It will be less than an hour before I’ll be there.”

Shishido veered up. “You're almost here?”

"Yes." He could feel Choutarou’s desire to please as an almost tangible thing. "Will you wait for me?"

"Of course, idiot." Shishido did not manage to keep the emotion from his voice either.

This time Shishido entered Atobe’s room much more quietly. He crossed his arms, but did not interupt his speech.

He had been stupid to stay away from Choutarou for so long, even for a camp as brutally efficient as the one he had just attended in Australia. After Atobe finished talking, his guests got served drinks and Vietnamese snacks. 

Shishido had loved them last time he had eaten them, but found that he could not think of food. Instead, he longed for Choutarou’s hands in his hair, on the small of his back, and then tugging at his pants.

Taking a deep breath, Shishido forced himself to stare at people’s shoes. It would not do to get a hard-on in the middle of this gathering. Chatter had sprung up all around, yet none of what they said registered until Mukahi jumped in front of him with effortless elegance.

"It is cute, you know."

"What is?"

"That you wait here like a nervous maiden, dreaming of getting fucked," Mukahi sneered.

"Perhaps you would to, if you knew what it is to be fucked properly."

Gasping, searching for a retort, Mukahi seized to matter when the door opened.

With a pink flush on his cheeks, his lover glanced around, looking for him.

“Choutarou.”

Those eyes lit up and Shishido felt happiness swell. They hurried towards each other, stopping only at the last moment, held back by the gazes of Atobe’s guests.

"How are you?" Shishido asked quietly.

"Well." Choutarou’s eyes were hot on him. "You?"

He nodded.

Tentatively, Choutarou laid a hand on his shoulder. “No new scars, right?”

"Nothing that won’t fade."

A smile lit up his entire face. “Shishido-san, I….”

"I want to be alone with you."

"We promised to attend Atobe-san’s meeting." The taller boy shuddered when Shishido’s breath touched his skin. "But maybe we can ask if he…eh wouldn’t mind."

"I don’t mind."

They both startled at Atobe’s interuption and looked at him sheepishly.

"I’d prefer it actually if you two get it out of your system."

"Oh!" Choutarou let out. "Well, if you mean that…."

"Go. All you are doing now is distracting my guests."

A quick look around told Shishido his former captain was right. Though people pretended at conversation, most threw glances at them, with a few whispering and chuckling.

"You can use one of my rooms," Atobe offered.

"Thanks, but I prefer a hotel."

"Suit yourself." He turned around. "But make sure you are ready at noon tomorrow."

Ohtori nodded at him, but Shishido was already out of the room. Outside, finally free of all those people, Ohtori intended on kissing him, but Shishido shook his head.

"If we start anything now, I won’t be able to hold off."

"Oh!"

"Yeah."

Shishido took his hand and led him down the stairs. They did not say anything as they passed the gates and found his car. Behind the wheel, he waited until Ohtori sat next to him and then sped away.

The hotel was not far, only a ten minute drive, but he kept his eyes firmly on the road. It was situated even further away from the city than Atobe’s spring retreat.

"Next week I’ll start uni," Choutarou said.

"Uh-huh." Shishido glanced over and his expression softened. He took Chotarou’s hand and squeezed it. "I am happy for you."

"Are you?"

"Sure."

Choutarou gave him a look that made him shiver. “You really need me in you, eh, Shishido-san?”

Shishido’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. Choutarou only said such things when he was really horny. He also knew the other was enjoying his eagerness, so he decided to accept the challenge. “Yeah. If you must know, I dreamt of you every night, touching myself. I even put my fingers inside me, imagining it was you, but it was never enough.”

"Shishido-san!"

Choutarou sounded as breathless as he wanted him to be, but he did not stop there. “I rubbed myself against the bed, naked, mad for you. But you were here in Japan, so one day I had this guy over and…. let him take care of me.”

Though Choutarou must know he was only riling him up, his look had darkened. He turned away, staring outside the window. Not sure if he had gone too far, Shishido went back to silence.

Situated near a river, with trees all around it, the hotel was as cosy as the brochure had promised. Choutarou carefully avoided eye contact.

An old lady helped the check-in and within a few minutes they headed up the stairs, to their room on the upper floor.

Shishido unlocked the door with the old fashioned key and put his bags next to the bed He was pleased with the room. The bed would have been enough for three people and suited someone as tall as Choutarou.

He turned around and smiled, but Choutarou met his gaze without pleasantness.

"Come on, I was just kidding," Shishido said. "Oshitari and the freak say stuff like that all the time."

Choutarou just watched him.

More unsettled, Shishido closed the distance between them. “I’m sorry, okay?”

Choutarou took both his wrists. It was not a gentle grasp, but Shishido did not struggle against it.

"Next time you say something like that, you can join them."

"What?"

Choutarou’s eyes narrowed. “I have no need for someone who can’t control his lust.”

Shishido gasped. Until know he had believed that Choutarou was playing along, but he wasn’t so sure anymore.

"You understand?"

He did not know why, but part of this was turning Shishido on in a whole new way. Instead of mouthing off, he nodded meekly.

Choutarou held his wrists, directing him towards the bed. Shishido sat down, but that was apparently not enough. Nudging his shoulders down, Choutarou made him lie back on the sheets. 

For a few seconds more Choutarou managed to keep that grave expression on his face, but then he started to smile.

Shishido laughed back, a little relieved perhaps, and pulled him closer for a kiss. “I thought for a moment you were serious!”

"Maybe I was," Choutarou said. His smirk faded when Shishido put up his knee and nudged at his crotch.

"Choutarou."

"Yes. Shishido-san?"

"Touch me."

A quick kiss on his neck, before Choutarou pulled up Shishido’s shirt a little. Kissing his stomach, he undid the button of those jeans. Slowly, he unzipped, but his lips were still moving round his bellybutton.

Shishido’s fingers curled, and he let out a moan.

Choutarou took his time sliding off the jeans. Hard, shivering with need, Shishido pulled at his collar, making him cover his body with his own.

"Hurry," Shishido urged, fumbling with the buttons of the taller boy’s pants.

Strong hands were around his wrists again and pushed them back in the mattrass.

"I said something about controlling yourself," Choutarou scraped his teeth over Shishido’s neck.

"Yes...ah!"

Spreading his legs, Shishido wrapped them around him. Their erections touched through fabric. Choutarou’s eyes closed as he moaned.

"Today I want you fast," Shishido whispered. "Tomorrow we play."

A small nod, and suddenly Choutarou’s hands grabbed his hips. He yanked down Shishido’s underwear and settled himself between his thighs.

He quickly undid the one button Shishido had left alone and pulled down his pants and underwear.

"Where?"

"The smaller bag," Shishido breathed. Every fiber of his being ached for that cock inside him.

Thankfully, Choutarou found the flask within seconds. He unscrewed the cap and warmed the oil between his hands.

Though Shishido had grown familiar with Choutarou touching him like this, it had been a while. The feeling of those fingers inside him, preparing him for what he wanted even more, made Shishido feel closer to Choutarou than he had ever felt to anyone else.

"Only you have ever…" he let out.

"I know." Choutarou’s eyes narrowed when Shishido gasped. "Keep it that way."

A few drops of oil fell to the bed as Choutarou rubbed some on himself. Even though he had nobody to compare him with, Shishido instinctively knew Choutarou was a most considerate lover.

Big thumbs nudged his legs further apart. Finally, Choutarou was pushing inside him, slowly to keep it from hurting.

It did a little, perhaps because it had been so long.

"So hot, inside me, it’s…"

Choutarou caught his gaze. He breathed fast, needed this perhaps even more than him.

"Move, it’s okay…I’m fine."

Yet Choutarou picked up his pace only slowly. His focus was on Shishido first and he did not speed up his thrust until that wrinkle in his forehead had gone.

They kissed, embraced and caressed, as their bodies found the same rhythm.

Shishido had long ago given up his pretense to indifference. Choutarou had always been so open in loving him, that he had grown to feel safe to return his obvious affection.

"Don’t leave for so long again….Ryou-san," Choutarou whispered as he thrust inside him.

Not sure of his voice, Shishido nodded.

Choutarou turned them around, hand on Shishido’s hips as he began to ride him. They both moaned, near their climax, but their gazes still found each other.

When Choutarou came inside him, Shishido pushed down, prolonging Choutarou’s pleasure.

Though sated himself, Choutarou still managed to pull out and lay Shishido on his back again.

His protest died on his lips, when Choutarou took him in his mouth. Those velvety lips and tongue drove him over the edge and for moments he saw nothing. 

Panting, Shishido could do little but hold onto Choutarou as he lay down on top of his heaving body.

Shishido smiled when Choutarou placed kisses down the line of his jaw. Satisfied as they were for the moment, it was only meant to express affection. His fingers softly grasped locks of light hair.

"It was difficult without you," Choutarou whispered.

"I will not go again so long." Shishido met his gaze. "Or only if you come with me."

Yet he was glad he had gone in one way. The time away from each other had demonstrated that this was no mere youthful infatuation. This would endure even when they were both in university and perhaps beyond.

"We’ll have to attend Atobe’s conference tomorrow."

Choutarou’s eyes widened suddenly. “I don’t even know what it’s about.”

"Neither do I," Shishido said and caressed Choutarou's hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first Silver Pair story. I had a lot of fun writing it and was inspired to write more Silver Pair. 
> 
> I will soon post a story about them. I won't put it in here, as it will have multiple chapters.


	8. His to Protect

Fully expecting that Fuji was already halfway through preparing dinner for tonight, Tezuka was surprised to find the kitchen dark. He put down the bags of groceries and changed his shoes for slippers.

Quickly, he walked through the corridor that led to their living room and opened the door. The small lamp in the corner had been switched on, but that was all the light provided. Fuji sat behind the table, back towards him as he read.

Normally, he would have turned around, and given Tezuka a lovely smile, but today he did not move or acknowledge him. Fuji only reacted like this when he was upset about something and feared to show too much emotion.

Tezuka walked over, put a hand on his shoulder and kissed the top of Fuji’s head. His light hair felt soft against his lips. “I am home.”

Fuji turned his face, giving him a smile that took effort. “Hi, how was your presentation?”

“It was fine.” He lay his arms over Fuji’s shoulders, giving him a loose hug from behind. “You haven’t started cooking yet?”

“I am sorry. I know it was my turn, but I was too engrossed in my book.”

“It is of no matter. I will order in. Sushi?”

“If you want.”

“We can order a pizza as well, or curry,” Tezuka suggested.

“Sushi is fine.”

Tezuka nodded. As he made the call, he watched Fuji from the corner of his eye. Only once or twice each year did he seem this unhappy, and it was always when he had an argument with his brother. He wasn’t sure if he should bring it up, since Fuji never liked talking about it, but Tezuka hated seeing him this unhappy.

Sure, the bond between the two brothers had much improved over the last few years, as both had gone to college and Syusuke helped Yuuta out with papers. They no longer competed in anything. Yuuta focused more on football, while Fuji gave his courses priority over tennis. Yet, sometimes Yuuta would still lash out in frustration at his older brother.

To give his boyfriend time to sort out his feelings, Tezuka put away the groceries and set the table. He opened the sake bottle his grandfather had given him and poured them both a little cup. From the cupboard, he took a candle and lit it.

The doorbell rang as he turned on his old LP Player.

“I’ll get it,” Fuji called and finally left his chair.

Just after he had disappeared into the corridor, their phone rang.

Tezuka picked it up. “Tezuka speaking.”

“Oh. Hello, Tezuka-san. Can I speak to my brother please?”

He frowned when he recognized Yuuta’s voice. The last thing Tezuka wanted was for him to say something that would upset Fuji only further. He did not like that Yuuta made use of that power to wound Syusuke from time to time.

“Are you calling to apologize?”

“Eh?...I?”

“You’re not?” Tezuka asked, just to be sure.

“Well, no, it was he who…”

“Call again when you will.”

Before Yuuta could say another word, Tezuka had hung up.

Right in time, because Fuji had finished paying the delivery girl, and came back into the living room with the sushi.

“Were you on the phone?”

“Yes.”

A pause. “Who to?”

“Someone who will call back later.”

Though he gave him a suspicious look, Fuji nevertheless decided to let the subject rest. They opened the bag and took out the sushi. Fuji went to the kitchen to get some extra soy sauce, as the plastic box in the bag had opened.

They sat down next to each other and ate in relative quiet, Tezuka’s classical music filling up the silence. Yet, they were not uncomfortable. Tezuka was attentive, picking out the nicest pieces of sushi and laying them on Fuji’s plate. From time to time, he caressed Fuji’s leg or tugged a lock of hair behind his ear.

Slowly, Tezuka saw him relax. Fuji began to respond to his attentions, resting a hand on Tezuka’s and looking at him with warmth.

“Living with you makes me happy,” Tezuka stated.

Fuji’s beautiful eyes lit up in surprise. “Yes?”

He nodded. Though he did not often say anything romantic, as he was no talent for it, he knew Fuji needed reassurance today more than usual. The smile he received now was worth any discomfort he felt when expressing his feelings.

The phone rang again when they had just picked a French movie to watch. Tezuka took the remote and paused, as Fuji stood up to get it. Though Tezuka busied himself with turning on the subtitles, he was keenly focused on Fuji’s conversation.

He looked apprehensive as he held the phone against his ear. “Yuuta…hi!”

Fuji’s eyes narrowed, concentrating on what was said. Finally, he lost some of that tension. “Of course, I understand. Don’t worry.”

Fuji caught his gaze as he kept talking. “I see. Yes, let’s do that. Goodbye.”

Nothing of that earlier sadness had remained as he sat down next to Tezuka again.

“You talked to Yuuta earlier?”

“Just for a moment.”

“He sounded different from usual. Any idea why?” Fuji asked sweetly.

“Yes.” Tezuka turned to watch him. “Does it bother you that I spoke to him?”

“Yuuta was kinder to me than when we spoke in the afternoon.” Fuji caressed Tezuka’s hand. “I don't know what you said to him, but he seemed quite impressed by it.”

Tezuka said nothing. If Yuuta would not make his brother unhappy again, it did not bother him in the slightest if Yuuta was a little taken aback by the way he had hung up.

Though they did not say anything more about Yuuta the rest of the evening, Tezuka knew that Fuji appreciated what he had done. He rather enjoyed how Fuji lay his head against his shoulder as they watched the movie and left little kisses there every few minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story just came to me this afternoon and I wrote it down when I came home. Normally, I always edit everything weeks later (and take long with updates), but it just felt right to post now. 
> 
> Of course I was inspired by Tezuka's canon tendency to hang up the phone if he feels like it (see episode 71 ;)).


End file.
